watch and learn
by samyuol
Summary: he doesn't listen otherwise


You are sofed up of his shit right now.

You don't even know why. You've been taking it since you were five years old, but today... For god's sake, he almost _killed _you. You relied on him to guide you through your mission, not give you the wrong timing and send you to a compound _absolutely fucking full of templars who you honestly didn't want to murder._

And when you return to the order to find him complaining avidly about how stupid _you _were today... well, it didn't please you.

"Oh, look whose back! The saviour of the day who almost ruined the whole fucking thing," Leo quips, sarcastically. Your expression is tense and your jaw is clenched.

"Not now, Robinson." you state, throwing down your bag. You hardly ever call him by his surname; you usually reserve that for the recruits or really anyone who isn't him or Axel. He notices it immediately and lets out this mocking laugh which makes you flinch a little.

"_Robinson_? What put you on your pedestal?"

"I said not now."

You didn't really want to retaliate. You knew it would only make him worse and when even is the last time you legitimately got angry at him? You can't remember.

And then he puts his hands on his hips, cocks his head at you, and says, "Why are you always so grumpy?" and you just snap.

"Maybe I wouldn't be so 'grumpy' if a shithead like you didn't send me into a base where I was outnumbered a hundred fold? Or maybe if you just weren't always being a snide little cock at me _all the fucking time?!_" you shout, turning so he gets the full force of it right in his face. You shove him away from you – which you have never done outside of combat with him – and flip him the bird so close that he goes cross eyed.

He stares at the finger for a moment, shocked into silence. And then, as you expected, he fucking explodes.

"Maybe you need someone to be a snide little cock, because you're about a mile up your own ass! And you were the one who took a dandy trip into that base, I didn't-"

"No, _Leonard, _you told me to go in exactly two minutes, and I did, because I fucking trusted you and once again you deliver me nothing but complete and utter bullshit!"

You admit that that comment was out of hand; Leo was reliable most (if not all) of the time. And he helped you out of the situation when it happened. But by now you were seeing red, and all you wanted to do was throw him down and punch him straight in the stomach and bite his neck until he's screaming-

Wait, what?

And then you pull back from him, realising you did just that. Well, the half of it. You did throw him down and you did give him a nice blow to the gut, judging by the way he's wheezing. Your lips feel a bit raw from the three red marks you just made just above where he could hide it efficiently, but he's not screaming.

Yet.

You pin his arms down and kiss him hard on the lips before he can say another thing. You're still angry at him – you'd say you probably hate him right now – and for some reason that just makes it feel a hundred times better. According to the way he's squirming under you, he's enjoying it as much as you are.

You bite his lower lip and bite down hard enough to cause him pain and he moans, long and croaked. You press his wrists down harder.

"Did I say you could fucking speak?" you demand, crouched over him. He gulps audibly and opens his mouth but you clench your hands and he just ends up whining. "I'm tired of your constant complaining, like I'm just an outlet for your shit. Well, I'm not. And maybe I need to fucking teach you that."

He looks _scared _at that comment, and you pick him up and throw him down onto the bed like a ragdoll, him turning onto his back and leaning up on his elbows to see you. He makes a little yelp when he finds his hands being cuffed together, him now chained to the headboard with his arms above his head. He tries to struggle and you strike him across the face immediately, him letting out a sob and arching his hips up off the bed.

You push them back down as you crawl up over him again, taking a moment to marvel at your work. His eyes are watering and his cheeks are flushed; one of them a little redder from that slap. His mouth is open to accommodate his heavy breathing and his hips are making these small, desperate movements like he's trying to hold back.

_You _did this to him. You turned that loudmouthed cunt into this gasping, writhing mess beneath you who is too afraid to even move without your permission.

And you like it.

You make it your mission to repay him for all of the bullshittery he's dealt to you, and you want to do it in this night alone. Tonight, you're going to tease him and hurt him until he's whimpering, fucking _begging _to cum. You're going to torture him. Fuck if you're going to let him say anything back, and for each snide comment he tries to make, you swear you're going to add thirty minutes to his waiting time.

"Keep your hips down. If they leave the bed at all tonight, I'm going to slice that pretty little neck clean through." You deadpan, purring a little at the end through a smile. He nods with a barely-there movement. "Don't say a fucking thing, and if you cum without my permission..." you lean down to whisper straight into his ear. "Well, I'll have to punish you for it."

A jagged groan escapes him only just, and he closes his mouth. He's already sweating with the effort not to buck his hips up and find friction.

You sit up to unzip your hoodie, taking it off to shed your shirt. He must be achingly hot by now in his clothes, and you're almost making fun; the way you sigh in relief from the coolness on your skin. His eyes go straight down to your low cut jeans and your cock which is only just covered by the denim, the elastic of your boxers barely covering it. You stretch with deliberate lithe movements, knowing his eyes are on you – the way your abdomen is tensing and how your neck is exposed when you tilt your head back just so.

You keep your pants on for the time being so you can shift down to remove his. It wasn't a good day for him to choose those chinos he bought because holy shit it looks painful, how hard he is. You tap at the button with your nail and watch him throw his head back just from that one, light touch.

Your fingers are deft and quick as they undo his trousers, you wanting to deprive him of as much contact as you can at this stage. You pull down the garment and leave on the red boxers, tented and stained with a damp spot where you're judging the tip of him to be. He grips the cuffs desperately, but doesn't make a noise, and you're impressed.

"I bet you've fantasised this before, you filthy slut," you spit, and he bites his lip. "Imagined me tying you down just like this and fucking you long and hard."

He mewls quietly as you run a fingertip up the length of his cock through his boxers. It's a feather light touch yet makes his muscles tense and his hips jerk, and even if what you said was just for show, you have a feeling he probably did.

You press kisses to his stomach. You press them to his thighs and neck and collar bone and practically everywhere that isn't his cock. Although you can't take his shirt off, you ride it high enough to get the access you need, and once you plant that last kiss on his hip, he's panting again and sweat is beading on his chest.

It seems like such a long time before you hook your index fingers under his boxers and take them off, and you feel proud to have made him this needy. His length is hard and heavy against his stomach, and you want to keep it that way for a while.

You think it's time to let up a little, knowing that it's only going to get worse for him. So you return to crouching over him and kiss him, tongue scraping the roof of his mouth and pushing him back into the bed.

You pull back and speak to him with a deep, husky tone. "I'll let you talk. Say anything even mildly dickish and I'll cut off your cock."

He immediately lets out a ragged gasp, moaning. "P-Please... Oh, fuck, Samuel, give me something- _anything, _just... F-Fuck... Fuck, I want you inside of me."

You stroke his black curls, smirking. "We both know I'm not gonna let you have it that easily."

It takes a bit of fiddling to get the cuffs to move up the beadstead, and Leo follows with a bit of prompting. You sit him up and allow his shirt to fall down over his chest again. When you start taking off your trousers, he's whining again, and you pause long enough to warn him that _if he doesn't comply he's going to be left like this forever._

You throw down the jeans and kneel up so he can watch you drag down your boxers. It's slow and probably excruciating for him, because he's already looking hungry without you being completely naked.

As soon as they're off and you move close enough, he leans down and presses that long tongue to the head of your cock, moving as far as he can forward in order to follow up with his mouth. You feel him trying to coax you further with those little movements from his tongue, and you give him what he wants.

Well, not exactly what he wants. You grab his head and thrust up into his mouth, him making a quiet surprised sound before closing his eyes and taking it all without a hitch. You can see him trying to slide his hands out from the cuffs, scraping your nails over his scalp to let him know you have.

He's sat with his knees up but legs spread wide, and it's clear just how much he wants it. His cock is dripping with precum and with each thrust he whimpers onto yours, the vibrations making you bite your lower lip in pleasure.

When you pull away he makes a pleading whine, leaning forward, reluctant to let go. You jerk his head back and can see it when he gulps, his neck slender and so pale against his hair.

"Such a whore..." you murmur, letting go if his hair to brush a thumb over those red lips, glistening with moisture and still parted.

As you move to a sitting position as well, you drag your hands down his body, watching each muscle tense beneath your fingers and playing dot-to-dot with the freckles that seem to be absolutely everywhere on him. You skim around his cock and he makes this indignant grunt which has you chuckling.

"S-Stop teasing..." he says, and you reward it by exhaling lightly on his length, making him squirm.

"I'm kind of tired," you complain, watching him snap his eyes open in urgency, and you pull back. "I might just let you go and make you do the work."

"What do you m-mean?" he demands, but his voice is still timid, afraid.

You reach round and release the cuffs softly, him slowly pulling his hands back and rubbing his wrists in confusion.

"I mean, I can't be bothered to stretch you. Finger yourself."

At that, he flushes somehow even redder - looking taken aback but not defiant. He moves to kneel in front of you as you lean back casually, tilting your head as if to say, _hurry up, I'm waiting._

And he actually does it. He reaches over to the drawer to find the lube and glances up at you again while he works some onto his fingers.

"Turn round." You comment, and he hesitates - for a moment you think you've taken too much of a risk, but shit. He doesn't just turn round; he leans to rest his unused arm down and bows his head and upper torso to the bed with it.

"Oh," he whimpers, when his middle finger finds his thigh, and there's a visible struggle as he resists going for his cock, pushing the fingers to his opening and pressing just one in, tentatively.

You've never been so hard in your life, and feel that somewhere, he's had this _planned. _Because it seems too practiced, the way he's finger-fucking himself in this position. But then you realise that it probably was practiced – you remember specifically that the other day he winced when he sat down, and you hadn't fucked him for a while.

That means... Huh. He must've been doing this when you and Axel were away. The thought of him moaning your name like he is now but on his own makes your cock jump.

"Hnnnghh..." he drawls, two fingers now buried deep into him, and it's only when you see him flinch and groan from his fingers hitting his prostate that you notice you'd been holding yourself loosely, pumping with a slow, deliberate pace that coincidentally matches the rhythm of Leo's movements.

He stops for a brief moment before moving his hips instead, sliding himself over his fingers, moans escaping him each time he presses down to the knuckles.

"Stop." You say, and he freezes as soon as the word leaves your mouth, his breath hitching.

"B-But I'm close," he says, and you let go of yourself, not showing your own reluctance to let this sight go to waste.

"When did I say you could cum?" you ask, and you see how he's trembling when you inch closer, pulling his hand away. He doesn't move from the vulnerable position. "I didn't. Come here..."

He shakily pulls himself up, turning round and following you as you guide him to straddle you. He eyes your cock lustily, bringing his eyes up in surprise when he tests his hands and feels them cuffed again, this time only to each other.

"Wh-Why am I-"

"Shut your fucking face and ride me."

His eyelids droop as he groans deeply. His torso trembles as he lifts his hips to allow you to position yourself, dropping as soon as you're in place.

It's your turn to moan now. Your theories of him fucking himself when he's alone must be right because there is no way on earth anyone could be this good at riding cock without practice. He angles himself so your length finds his prostate almost immediately and you're going to have to do a spot search of the room for toys because _fuck._

This teasing thing has gone both ways, you're incredibly close as well, and he's rolling his hips like he's been doing it all his life.

"F-Fuck, I can tell you've been practicing," you say, breathily. He doesn't respond audible by you can feel him clench around you. "What, do you fuck yourself with a dildo every time we're away? It sure feels l-like it, oh god..."

He's keening again, whimpering and clenching so impossibly tight. You hold his hips to slow him before you lose it.

"So close... Please," he whines, and you gulp a little to keep your voice firm.

"Please what?"

"Pleaseletme- Oh, fuck, let me cum!" he mutters, breathing deep and slow to calm himself.

You bite your lip as if to contemplate, leaning up a little more on your elbows and shifting so you're sitting with him still straddling you. You lick a long line up the side of his neck and find his ear, letting your grip loosen just enough for him to ride you slowly.

"Cum for me," you say in a voice that only _just _audible and you don't need to even touch him for his whole body to tense, him releasing over your stomach and crying out loudly for the whole order to hear.

You press him down so he's beneath you again, him managing to weakly wrap his legs around your hips as you thrust into him to find your own much needed release, cumming into him just as he starts twitching from overstimulation.

It's a while before you pull out and take the cuffs off, kissing the red marks around his wrists soothingly and hearing his breath falter each time you do, his skin hot to the touch.

"Remember this each time you think of being a douchebag to me." You tell him, laying his arms back onto the bed and watching him nod ever so slightly.

You decide that this is definitely the best way to teach him a lesson.


End file.
